


You And I (Figure My Heart Out)

by hallowgirl



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Adorkable, Affectionate Insults, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Companionable Snark, Cross-Party Romance, Crying, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, George Ships It, Hate to Love, Insecurity, Just Kiss Him, M/M, Making Out, Next Gen Labour, Opposites Attract, Panic Attacks, Politically, Rival Romance, Sad with a Happy Ending, everyone can see it, lisping, not too much but angst, shippers on deck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 03:35:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4591455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowgirl/pseuds/hallowgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ed-" David steps closer to him and Ed shakes his head, meeting David's eyes with an anguished look. "I-I've ruined everything" he whispers and that's when David tightens his hand on Ed's shoulder and presses their foreheads together. "No, you haven't.""</p>
<p>At first, it's just talking. Then it's working. Then it's phone calls. Then it's laughing and watching and not saying. It's something more and it's up to David and Ed to figure it out between them. Camerband. Written for a prompt of David and Ed ending up in a relationship months after the election. Title from "Heart Out" by The 1975.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You And I (Figure My Heart Out)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt of David and Ed ending up in a relationship some months after the 2015 election. Got ridiculously long. Obviously, complete fiction, never happened. Kind of written while listening to "Heart Out" by The 1975 on repeat. Leave a review if you like it :)

_You got something to say, why don't you say it out loud  
Instead of living in your head  
It's always the same  
Why don't you take your heart out, instead of living in your head  
It's just you and I, tonight  
Why don't you figure my heart out?-The 1975_

The first time, it's from George's elbow in the ribs ("It just reflects negatively if you _don't_ talk to him") and Boris's rolling his eyes ("You know, Dave, everyone's going to start thinking you're _scared_ of Miliband") and even Nick insisting in his ear ("You still talk to _me."_ But that's different. He and Nick had been working together for five years. He and Miliband, on the other hand-)  
But then he watches Miliband stand up and give another speech on why-I-am-doing-the-right-thing-for-the-country-regarding-my-constituency and while he feels that familiar grinding feeling in his chest, that feeling of wanting to get up and throw some structured, polished arguments back at Miliband, just to wipe that earnest, self-righteous look off his face-there's a twinge of something David doesn't recognize.  
Well, maybe he _does_ recognize it. But he's been keeping his eyes carefully away from Miliband for a while now. Perhaps because each time he looks at him, he has to swallow and lower his eyes and even _imagining_ what Miliband must feel like is like a raw, stabbing sensation in his chest.  
But watching him, that twinge is back in his chest. That feeling of watching the way Miliband bites his lip a little before he speaks, that nervous blinking he does without realising. The way he points into the air when he's hit on some point where he's convinced, utterly _convinced_ , that he's right.  
Watching him makes David smile and it's then he realises the truth is a lot more simple than he's made it out to be. He misses Miliband.  
He blinks. No. He misses _fighting_ with Miliband. That must be it. Because they both always claimed not to enjoy it, that it was a waste of time, that it didn't even contribute anything useful. And they'd both always agreed to cut it down, to be calmer, to give a little more. And they'd both always said it with a smile, knowing that the minute they got into a room together, it was going to be the way it always was and that neither of them wanted it to change.  
He misses fighting with Miliband and that's the only reason he takes all of their advice, and follows Miliband out of the backbenches one day, follows him out into the hall, trying to rehearse what he's going to say, wondering why the words seem to be getting jammed in his brain, and before he can lose his nerve, he taps Miliband's shoulder and he's saying "Ed."  
Miliband turns round and his eyes widen. They're darker than David remembers. He can't remember the last time he was this close to Miliband. He can't remember the last time he spoke and he's missed it. How has he not realised he's missed this?  
He watches Miliband's brow furrow and those eyes dart for a moment and then the hint of laughter in that voice as Miliband says "Prime Minister?" and something in the tone makes David simultaneously roll his eyes and smile because only _Miliband_ would say it that way.  
"You know I don't want you to call me that" he says, and Miliband raises an eyebrow. "Is that an order?"  
David smiles. "How are you, Miliband?"  
*  
That's the first time. And they exchange greetings, words about their families, and David pretends it's usual that his eyes are roaming up and down Ed's face, that words are pushing him to ask _How are you, how are you, really?_  
And because he wants to say it, and he doesn't let the words out of his mouth, his hand lands on Miliband's arm and he says "I have to say, debating Harriet isn't nearly the same as debating you."  
Miliband tilts his head to one side. "I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult, Cameron."  
David raises an eyebrow. "You decide."  
He knows this with Miliband-he knows this, the easy back-and-forth, the smile that tugs at the corner of Miliband's mouth as their eyes meet.  
It's not until they part, with their eyes meeting and holding a little longer than necessary, does David realise that he's had his hand on Miliband's arm the whole time.  
*  
The second time is when he and Miliband literally bump into each other as they walk down the corridor and David says, lightly "We have to stop meeting like this."  
Miliband blinks, and only seems to get the joke a moment too late, but then that's Miliband.  
Miliband asks, quite seriously, "How's work been for you?" and David, rather than coming out with the usual lines, _Fantastic, an honour, wonderful_ , and tells him that while it is an honour and it is going well, and it is fantastic, it's also a lot of work and it means less time with Sam and that the children keep asking why Daddy doesn't ever tuck them in anymore.  
Miliband arches an eyebrow and says "You do know I should probably be the last person in the world sympathizing with you?"  
But then he shakes his head and lets his hand brush David's sleeve and tells him that the children will understand and that it probably simply feels overwhelming because he's had Nick there for the last five years.  
"Obviously, I think you're wrong about everything" Miliband says and David can't help the grin that breaks out over his face. "But I can't deny you're doing a good job of being wrong."  
David tilts his head. "Exactly which part is meant to cheer me up, Miliband?"  
They end up walking nearly all the way to David's office, their arms brushing the whole way and when they get there, he pushes the door open and invites Miliband in without thinking twice about it.  
He doesn't know why but there's always been this element to his conversations with Miliband. Perhaps it's simply Miliband's incessant nagging over the last five years for a straight answer to a straight question that's rubbed off on him around the man but whenever they've talked in the past-on the occasions when they've managed to avoid an argument and even some occasions when they haven't-he's found himself being more honest with Miliband than he is even with George, as though their arguing knocks down a barrier, leaves him with the sense that at least there's someone else who enjoys this as much as he does.  
"Be honest" says Miliband, when they're sitting opposite each other, as they've done so many times before. "A part of you is remembering the moment those exit polls appeared on the screen right now."  
David smirks. "Be honest-a part of you hates me right now."  
He expects a smirk in return but instead, Miliband meets his eyes. "Honestly?" he says quietly. "I don't hate you, Cameron."  
David swallows as the sheer-well- _honesty_ of the words hits him straight in the chest. There's no getting around the fact-no matter what he's said about Miliband in the past, something about this seems undeniably honest. He stares at Miliband for a long moment before he swallows. "Honestly?" he says, very quietly. "I don't hate you, either."  
Miliband smiles. "I don't think this is a situation where _you_ get to have hard feelings, Cameron."  
David sighs. "I try to be nice-"  
"Try to be nice? _A part of you hates me right now-"_  
"I thought you were honesty's greatest supporter, Miliband?"  
It goes back and forth between them, and when both glance at their watches and find half an hour has passed and they both have appointments they're late for, Miliband heads for the door and David says "It might be an idea if you tried not to bump into anyone on the way back" which prompts Miliband to retort "I'll watch out for those who are approaching old age, then" and David resists the urge to throw a pen at the smirk on Miliband's face, even as something like a grin unfurls in his chest, and he calls after him (in a manner rather undignified for a Prime Minister, he has to admit) "And _you_ call _me_ a Bullingdon boy!"  
Miliband simply gives him that wide grin that's become so familiar to David over the last five years, the one that papers have ribbed mercilessly, and that David would never admit he's grown to like and for a moment, they both hover, and David knows, without knowing how he knows, that they both want to drag the meeting out a few more minutes and that neither of them knows how to do it.  
Finally, as Miliband steps into the hallway, he says quietly, "Have a good night, Miliband."  
Miliband's eyes meet his as he says "You too, Cameron."  
David doesn't stop smiling and tells himself he's just missed the intellectual stimulation.  
*  
"This might be a first, David Cameron admitting he's wrong about something-"  
"I admitted you _phrased_ something more eloquently, Miliband-"  
"Don't waste it, Cameron, this is the first evidence you've ever shown of being progressive. It must be a change for you."  
"It must be a change for you to have someone tell you you're right about something."  
"It's certainly a change to hear you admit you're wrong. Though in your customary arrogant way-"  
"Miliband, do you actually listen to definitions? I didn't admit I was wrong, I said you phrased something more eloquently. It was actually the rarity I was commenting on."  
"Etonian."  
"Brownite."  
*  
Ed tells himself that he just wants to make sure the issues for his constituency are properly addressed by the Prime Minister which is the only reason he ends up in his office, with the two of them poring over plans for new schemes that need to be put into place.  
"Sure I'm not too old to see this, Miliband?" David asks, at one stage, his pen hovering over a line, and before he can stop himself, Ed gently nudges his shoulder, and he feels both him and David tense at the same moment, and just when he thinks Cameron might pull away, their eyes meet and Ed sees his own smile on Cameron's face.  
They're signing forms, technically. They're just performing their tasks interspersed with a lot of conversation. Ed tells Cameron that it's great spending a little more time with Justine. "But-" and then he shakes his head and tells Cameron not to worry about it.  
Cameron puts down his pen and stares at him. "What's wrong?"  
Ed shakes his head. "Cameron, I think the Prime Minister's time might be a little too valuable-" He means the words to come out lightly but they sound heavy, and Cameron's mouth twitches.  
"Where's the comment about how "I should be too busy being Prime Minister to focus on personal problems?"" he says and against his will, Ed smiles. Cameron's hand brushes his arm. "Really" he says, and his voice is low. "What's the problem?"  
Ed swallows and forces the words out. "Maybe sometimes spending so much time together isn't what Justine and I need."  
He doesn't know when he and Cameron end up sitting next to each other; how somehow, he's telling Cameron that it's almost like he and Justine have been so focused on his job for so long, it's as though they don't know what to talk about; how sometimes it feels like the children are all they discuss. Cameron nods and listens and Ed almost forgets it's _Cameron._  
Ed prides himself on being honest, and so he has to admit that he's lying. He can't almost forget it's Cameron. For some reason, he doesn't _want_ to forget it's Cameron. He's never wanted to, even when they're locked in a verbal sparring match, Cameron's accent grating on his nerves, even as he struggles to bite back a grin at some of Cameron's wittier comments.  
But now, Cameron listens and when Ed's finished spilling out just some of what's been bothering him, Cameron doesn't tell him what a waste of time it's been. Instead, to his shock, Cameron puts his hand on Ed's shoulder and squeezes gently.  
"It's difficult" Cameron says and somehow, the slight patronizing tone doesn't annoy Ed at all, simply because it's edged with so much concern. It occurs to him that maybe this is just Cameron's way of showing worry. But right now, he likes the feeling of the hand on his shoulder and so he chooses not to notice that Cameron hasn't pulled his hand away.  
Cameron tells him that he's sure he and Justine will work it out-that there must have been things they talked about before politics, that they're probably still settling, and he's sure things will feel easier with time. Although Ed isn't sure he's right, something about the words is comforting and he hangs onto them, so much so that he's utterly taken aback when Cameron rather awkwardly puts both hands on his shoulders and squeezes in what Ed supposes is almost a hug.  
Unsure what to do, he raises a hand and cautiously pats Cameron's shoulder. He can smell Cameron's cologne and almost unconsciously, he steps closer, so that he can feel the warmth of Cameron's skin. Cameron squeezes his shoulders again-almost gently-and says, quietly "Still a Bullingdon Boy, Miliband?"  
Miliband smiles. "You're more familiar with their customs than me, Cameron."  
They both laugh a little too loudly, to disguise the fact that neither of them has let go.  
Ed knows it doesn't make sense, knows that there are things he and Justine talked about before politics. He knows that they can get through this.  
It still doesn't make things easier.  
Sometimes, he catches himself staring at her over the table, his mouth already opening to ask the question. _Do you think it was a waste of time? Do you resent all the time you spent on it? Do the kids wonder why they had to go without seeing us both?  
Do you think I deserved to lose?_  
Justine looks at him and a smile twitches at the corners of her mouth. "What is it?" she says and Ed looks her in the eye and tells himself that it's the truth as he says "Nothing."  
*  
They have a rapport. That's what David tells himself. They have a rapport and that's the only reason he keeps finding reasons to call Miliband into his office and that's the only reason Miliband keeps turning up.  
He tells himself over and over that it's a rapport when he knows he could have made a point better and he looks up and catches Miliband's eyes in the backbenches, sees that twitch of a smirk at his mouth and knows they're both picturing what Miliband would have replied, what comment he would have thrown, that David would have shaken his head over and told himself firmly he did not find amusing at _all._  
It's just a rapport. He still talks to _Nick_ , after all. They catch up-they know what's going on with each other. They're even in meetings together, sometimes. So, it's all fine. It's perfectly normal.  
Though, he has to admit that George's remark about him and Miliband being "joined at the hip all of a sudden" does rankle a little.  
But not enough to stop him, when, one night, they're poring over a document together-David can't remember when he last had to pay such careful attention to Doncaster-and David mentions that it's getting late and says, before he can stop himself, "Do you want to bring this back to mine?"  
And it's not enough to stop Miliband, after some blinking and a moment when his lisp makes its' reappearance in spectacular fashion, from saying yes.  
It's a little awkward at first. Sam's taken the kids to the cinema and he asks Miliband several times if he wants anything to eat, Miliband politely declining-"I don't want to put you out" he says and it isn't until David, laughing, points out that he isn't, Sam's left some pasta, which is actually pretty good, that Miliband's shoulders relax and he accepts a plate. David notices how careful Miliband is with the fork, and how precise he is, eating the pasta piece by piece. He remembers the disaster with the bacon sandwich and deliberately drops his own fork just to see Miliband laugh a little, as he says "Don't say I treat my forks the same way I treat my policies, Miliband."  
Miliband does laugh and David tells himself that the reason his own gaze lingers on the way Miliband's eyes crease when he laughs and the way his whole face, as cheesy and terrible as the line is, lights up when he grins, is because he's happy to have cheered him up.  
The work is finished too quickly, and David offers Miliband a cup of tea, with a grin and the remark-"If it doesn't end up on the front page of the papers-"  
Miliband stares at him for a moment, before David sees the realisation dawn. "Even for you, Cameron, that was poor" he says with a grin and David laughs, to cover up that second where Miliband had stared at him, as though Miliband had been thinking of what else could appear on the cover of the papers.  
*  
They end up drinking tea on the couch together and the minute David sits down, Miliband asks about a painting on the wall, as though he's rehearsed the line to fill any silence. David gladly tells him where they got it and that leads to each of them telling stories about their failed attempts to get their children to appreciate some culture. Stories about children lead to stories about nannies and work and it doesn't take long for them to descend into their back-and-forth of remarks that they know so well by now.  
They're still in the middle of debating whether or not it's elitist for David to say that some moneyed backgrounds can lead to a stronger interest in politics ("Tell me, Cameron, before you were 21, did you have any experience outside the 1%?" "Tell me, Miliband, before you were 21, did you have any experience at all?") when Sam arrives home with the kids and even though she greets Miliband warmly, he leaps up, immediately apologizing for taking up so much of her husband's time and saying he actually must be getting back and he's so sorry to intrude, and it's David who tells him he's done nothing of the sort.  
It's at the door, with his eyes darting awkwardly from David's face to his own shoes, that Miliband blurts out that he had a very pleasant evening, and David agrees and then, before he can think twice about it, adds "We should do this again sometime."  
Miliband stares at him and David braces himself for some fleeting expression of horror but instead, the smile that appears just for a second is the same one that David found himself watching earlier. And then their hands touch just for a moment before David claps him on the shoulder and tells himself he didn't hold on any longer than he needed to.  
*  
It's that night in bed, reading a novel next to him, that Sam says "You know, you don't need to wait until I'm out of the house to invite people over" and David insists that he wasn't, that it was just an accident, a spur-of-the-moment decision-and Sam laughs and says "Dave, it was a joke."  
David nods, pretending that he'd known all along, until Sam says "Unless, of course, you _wanted_ me out of the way."  
David stares at her for a second, mouth opening and closing frantically, until Sam starts laughing even harder and he pretends to have known it was a joke all along.  
*  
"I hope my kitchen meets the standards set by your two."  
"You know, Cameron, there is such a thing as letting things go."  
"Which you've failed to do with one of your kitchens."  
"Really, Cameron? The Tories are complaining about house sizes?"  
"I imagine Labour wishes it could let go of every crack in the economy-"  
"That would be a stronger comeback if Labour was still my responsibility."  
"I didn't quite-I didn't mean it to sound like that."  
"I think that's an occupational problem with being you, Cameron."  
"I mean it, Miliband. I mean-I mean-I mean that I didn't mean it like that."  
"Cameron, that's more confusing than your party's average budget statement."  
"Miliband, do you know anything about how to accept an apology?"  
"I know you now owe me another one."  
"Miliband. I didn't mean it. Honestly."  
"I know. Amusing to hear, though."  
"Oh, shut up, Miliband."  
*  
It happens again. And again. David notices Miliband's a little paler once the Leadership election campaigns start, and makes a determined effort not to bring the subject up.  
A couple of times, Ed stays a little longer when Sam and the kids get home, and he always seems to relax a little more the longer he stays. More and more often now, once the documents have been filled, there's something else to talk about. A TV channel to be flipped through. Even on a couple of occasions, washing up to do, which Miliband always insists on helping with. ("Cameron, I know it's difficult for a Tory to admit when they're inexperienced in something-" "Well, I'm sure you've had plenty of experience with washing up in your two kitchens.")  
They do the washing up together, occasionally nudging each other when one accidentally splashes the other, and one time when Miliband ends up with a soap sud on his nose, David flicks it off before he can think twice. Miliband stares at him and then breaks into something which can only be described as a _giggle_ which sets off something that feels like a firework in David's chest, and he has to duck his head to hide the grin that's broken out over his own face.  
But sometimes, there are shadows under Miliband's eyes and David's not sure if it's his imagination or not, but his clothes seem to be hanging off him. He manages to ask, hopefully sounding casual, if Miliband's sure he's all right but Miliband always waves off concerns with a _fine, just overworked, just tired, just-_ and David pretends to believe him.  
One night, when they're doing the washing up together, he finds himself staring at Miliband's wrist. It's thinner than he remembers and his eyes linger on the long fingers. He's never noticed just how long they are before. It's a few moments later that they both reach for the same dish and his fingers close around Miliband's, so that for a moment, their hands are clumsily holding onto each other, and David feels his heart throw itself against his ribs like it's trying to escape.  
They both let go, fingers flying apart and Miliband blinks and babbles an apology, and David manages to articulate his own while trying not to take in the blush on Miliband's cheeks.  
He tells himself it was nothing and that night, he stares at Sam, reminding himself of how much he loves her. How he first fell in love with her, on that holiday, the way she stared at him, unwilling to let him get away with anything. Challenging him.  
_Challenging him._ Oh _God._  
But that-that doesn't mean-  
Sam catches him staring and he looks away hastily but then she closes her book and says "Dave-" as if they're about to have a conversation that he doesn't think he'll ever be ready for.  
He forces himself to look completely calm as he says "Yes?" and waits, but Sam just watches him for a long minute and then shakes her head. "Doesn't matter."  
David turns over and his fingers open and close reflexively. He has a brief flash of Miliband's fingers wrapped uncertainly around his own a few hours before, and closes his eyes, but he can still feel the warmth of Miliband's hand in his and that's just one more layer of confusion to wrap around his brain. He thinks of Sam and Miliband and the way he can't even think of not loving Sam and the way he can't just take him and Miliband back to before they started seeing so much of each other, and the way Miliband's eyelashes brush against his cheeks when he blinks so rapidly, whenever he's babbling away, and David wants to punch the pillow and wishes his worries could be that easily solved.  
*  
Ed tells himself it's normal for him and Cameron to use each other's houses to consult with each other. They even did it before, before the election, before it was decided which of them would be living in 10 Downing Street for the next five years.  
So, it doesn't make sense that he looks forward to it so much but he ignores that, and ignores the way his skin prickles every time Cameron's grin creases his face when Ed says something that strikes him as amusing. The way their arguments go-back and forth, the way they always did-is something that he clings onto, something that makes him laugh, something that reminds him of the way things used to be.  
Justine tells him he's spending too much time at work and something about the words stings him, so he tells her that he's trying to make sure he can still fight for the constituents he is responsible for and she asks him about the boys, the boys who ask when Daddy's going to sit with them, when they're going to watch the new Pixar film, when Daddy's going to be home. And that's small and hard and hurting in his chest because that's the thing she knows will hurt him, the boys and their little voices echoing in his ears. _Daddy, why don't you tell us stories anymore?_  
And a part of him, the part that whispers that he and Cameron are supposed to hate each other's opinions, are supposed to only spend time with each other under extreme duress, whispers that he deserves it.  
He pushes her and pushes her, talking endlessly about how much work he's had to do, all to make her say it, to make himself hear the words, and finally she does, and the words hit him in the face and he can see the moment it's out of her mouth that she hates herself for it and that makes him hate himself even more.  
He sleeps on the couch that night and tells himself that this is normal and that he should just go to sleep and forget about wishing there was someone he could talk to about it and that he needs to stop thinking about Justine's face when she said those words, those words that were like a slap. _Well, it's not as if you're leading a party anymore._  
When the boys find him there in the morning, he tells them that he just finds the couch more comfortable sometimes, and hates himself for the small stab of betrayal he feels when they believe him so easily. Cameron, Justine and the boys all crash into each other in his head and by the time he reaches work, he's rubbing his temples and glancing frantically at his watch to work out when he can take the next dose of paracetamol because that's easier than thinking about the feelings squeezing his stomach into sickness.  
*  
Some nights he spends on the couch, some nights he doesn't. When he spends more nights working with Cameron-even though there's less and less work, and more and more talking-Justine and he either ignore it or descend into a hissed argument when the boys are in bed, harsh whispers that somehow hurt more than shouting.  
The headaches get worse and sometimes, he finds himself crouched in front of the toilet, vomiting at three in the morning, feeling as though he's dying of the knots that seem to be constantly in his stomach now, constantly pulling tighter-in a way that makes his heart race when he's arguing with Cameron, but when he thinks about the boys and Justine and how guilty he feels all the time, in a way that makes his chest tighten and sometimes leave him gasping for breath.  
Justine finds him one morning, crouched over the toilet, gulping for air, and she helps him up and when he's sitting on the couch with his head resting in his hands she says "How long has this been going on?"  
He shakes his head. Justine takes his hands in hers'. "Ed. You have to talk to me."  
He shakes his head again. "We don't have anything to talk _about."_ The words come out more fraught and desperate than he intended, ragged from the weeks of holding them inside.  
He buries his head in his hands and waits. When Justine's voice comes, it's low and cracks halfway through.  
"Ed. I just-I just want to be happy. I want _you_ to be happy. And I love you. You know I do. But-I don't think I'm making you happy right now."  
Ed lifts his head and stares at her because he doesn't want this but he doesn't know what he wants.  
Justine takes his hands and then she says "Is there-" She has to swallow. "Is there someone you want to talk to-who isn't me?"  
Ed nods. He doesn't care about lying or the truth. Right now, he feels as though he couldn't care about anything.  
Justine closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "OK." She nods a few times to herself, presses her lips together but can't stop one tear spilling out and Ed can't help a small sobbing sound erupting from his own chest. "I'm so th-s-sorry, Justine-"  
"OK-" she says and she holds up a hand. "OK, just let me, just let me think-just for a minute, let me think-"  
"I love you" he babbles at her and he remembers Cameron saying something about him babbling, that grin curling his mouth, and he shakes his head, pushing his head into his hands as if they can pull the memories out and discard them. "I love, I love you so much, I promith-se, I love you, I haven't-I've never-"  
She has her eyes closed and she takes a long, deep breath. "OK" she says and she puts her hands on his arms. "Ed, I-I don't know how to feel. But-you can't keep making yourself ill like this. You can't."  
He cries then, shaking a little and Justine holds him for a long moment, tells him it's all going to be all right, and he wishes he could believe her.  
*  
He sleeps in their bed that night and in the morning, he tries to kiss her, and she lets him. After, he stares at her, feeling like a child, not knowing what to say.  
"Ed" she says and he knows she knows what he meant last night, when he told her there was someone else he needed to talk to. "I don't know what's going to happen with us. I don't. But I want you to know I will always care about you. Always. And I know that you love me and that you-" Her voice cracks for a moment and she seems to force herself to go on. "That you adore the boys. I know that. And I wanted you to know, too."  
All Ed can do is nod, and when he gets to Westminster, he lets his head slump forward the second he's alone and wonders if there's anywhere that his head doesn't ache and his chest doesn't tighten and there isn't yet another sight to help him count all the ways he's failed and there isn't yet another tightening of the knots in his chest, whenever he thinks that what he wants right now is to be arguing with Cameron, so he doesn't have to think about it all.  
*  
"No, Dave, I agree that Miliband doesn't look good" say George, rather irritably one morning. "Just like I agreed yesterday. And the day before. Just like Nick agreed this morning and Boris agreed last night and Michael agreed yesterday in the Portcullis canteen, just like they all _agreed."_  
David sighs, and wonders if George overlooked the fact that a friend is meant to offer sympathy.  
But when he glances up, George is staring at him, head tilted to the side, an expression on his face that David can't quite read. "You know, David-"  
David keeps speaking, and doesn't choose to wonder why he doesn't let George finish. "He looks so thin" he blurts out, even as George rolls his eyes. "And he looks tired-Jesus, why's he always so tired? Doesn't he sleep? I mean, can't you picture it, him sitting up all night, doing the right thing, or some-"  
George's hand covers David's mouth, and David finds his Chancellor right there in front of him, staring into his eyes. "David. Stop."  
David stares at him and George drops his hand. "If you want to know how to help Miliband, just ask him. You spend enough time with him-"  
"We don't spend that much time-" George cuts off David's protest with a raised hand and grabs his mobile phone.  
A moment later, he's speaking. "Nick? You're on speakerphone. Tell me, do you think David spends a lot of time with Miliband?"  
Nick's voice echoes into the room, tinny over George's phone. "That's like asking if the Lib Dems lost some seats, George."  
George smiles at David, and David sighs.  
*  
"You look pale."  
"And your usual keen sense of tact saves you again, Cameron."  
"You're starting to suit that "Panda" nickname now."  
"And again."  
"Miliband-are-um-are you-"  
"What?"  
"E....Miliband...nothing."  
*  
David tells himself firmly, as he agonizes over the exact wording of a text message to Miliband, that they do not spend an unusual amount of time together.  
He stares at the screen and then deletes the whole draft. He'll be better at talking to Miliband face to face. At least, then, they've got their usual carping to fall back on.  
But he still can't get how pale Miliband has been recently out of his mind and he's so distracted that Sam has to ask him three times if he's OK before he even realises she's talking to him. He insists that he is, just a little tired, and he chooses to ignore the look she gives him as he says that he thinks he'll have an early night, the look that she's given him countless times over the course of their marriage. The look that says she knows there's more to the story than he's telling.  
He falls into a restless sleep still thinking of those shadows under Miliband's eyes, the way he sometimes catches the other man staring into space, the way that sometimes, he almost reaches out and touches Miliband's arm but stops himself.  
*  
"Do you know what principles mean, Cameron?"  
"Do you know what hypocrisy means, Miliband?"  
"I could ask you if I wanted an example."  
"You're labouring the point Miliband. And yes, that was deliberate."  
"With you, it would be."  
*  
He dreams that his hands are in Miliband's hair. His fingers stroking back and forth, brushing Miliband's neck. Miliband's breath, hot on the shell of his ear.  
He murmurs something into the crook of Miliband's shoulder as he feels their hearts pounding together so hard it hurts, whispering something like _beautiful_ as he traces his lips across Miliband's olive skin, and then Miliband whispers "Cliched, Cameron, even for you." But his voice is soft and his hand is cupping David's face so gently that David's eyes roll as Miliband traces his lips in a slow, dizzying pattern along his jaw.  
He wakes with his hands grinding into the mattress, moaning into his pillow, and when he lifts his head, body aching for the ghost of Miliband's mouth and desperate gasps for breath still coming from his own, Sam is propped up on her elbow staring at him.  
"Sam" David says weakly, and Sam puts her hand on his arm, so, so gently, and shakes her head.  
"You talk in your sleep, Dave" she says softly. David closes his eyes, listens to his own heartbeat.  
Sam's voice is low. "You said "Ed", Dave."

 

David swallows.  
"You said it over and over."  
"I know." David shakes his head back and forth, and he can't stop, reaching out to Sam, desperate to make her see, make her understand-"I know, Sam, I-I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I-I-I don't know _why-"_  
"There could be a fairly simple answer, you know" Sam says quietly and David is amazed when he glances up to see a small, achingly sad smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.  
"No" he says, before he's even sure of the words, shaking his head and pulling away, as if she's thrown a snake at him."No, no, it-it can't be-it-it was just-just a _dream_ , it-it can't be-I mean, I-" He swallows and feels a dull stab of horror at the fact that his eyes are prickling with tears. "It can't mean anything" he says, his voice barely a whisper. "It can't-it-it has to just be-I love you" he blurts out and she shakes her head, with one of the saddest smiles he's ever seen.  
"Maybe-" And she lets her hand rest on his cheek, her thumb stroking away a tear. "Maybe you can love more than one person at a time."  
David shakes his head convulsively under her hand, dragging his hands through his hair-"No-you don't-you don't understand-I-I can't-I-I _can't-"_  
He breaks off because he can't, he can't, but his mind's whispering of the way that he'd been tossing and turning before he fell into that dream, his mind full of the shadows under Miliband's eyes, of the way he agonized over one text message. Of the way that every time Miliband gives him a rueful grin when they both know David's scored a point and the way that Miliband's eyes darken, almost glittering over that grin, when they both know that he's got the better line, David can't stop himself grinning, so hard it aches sometimes.  
Sam doesn't say anything. He closes his eyes but he can still feel her watching him.  
"I can't" he says but the words come out weakly.  
Sam's arms are around his shoulders. "It's OK" she says softly. "David, it's OK."  
But it's not OK, because how can it be? How can he love Sam the way he does and-and-  
He can't think the words so he just lets his head lie on Sam's shoulder and listens to her tell him it will be OK.  
"I think I knew" she says softly, and then she says "There's a part of me that thought I hated it but then I realised that wasn't true."  
David lifts his head and stares at her. "You-you mean-"  
Sam shakes her head. "I'm not going to pretend I love it" she says, and this time, her voice cracks halfway through. "You're telling me-you're-"  
"I'm not telling-I didn't say-"  
Sam touches his cheek. "Dave-you didn't have to. But-" She takes in a deep breath. "I know you love me."  
David nods frantically. Sam looks him straight in the eye.  
"But that doesn't take away what you feel for-"  
She doesn't say the name but David can't pretend he doesn't know who she means anymore. He buries his head in her shoulder and whispers "I'm sorry" against her skin and pretends that an apology isn't the same as an admission.  
*  
It's the next day that David walks into his office for an appointment with Miliband and finds him sitting with his head in his hands, looking as though he's spent the night being battered by Balls.  
"E..Miliband? Are you-are you all right?"  
A small raise of the shoulders is the only sign Miliband's even heard him. His fingers are digging into his hair and it's the wrong moment for David to find his gaze caught by the way a strand of Miliband's hair falls forward, catches the light a little.  
David steps forward and lets his hand fall onto Miliband's shoulder. Miliband tenses and slowly, David moves the hand to the centre of his back, moving in slow circles.  
"It'll be all right-" he says uselessly, but Miliband doesn't take the opportunity this provides. Instead, he just shakes his head, and sniffs, and before David can stop himself, he's crouching next to Miliband, an arm falling around his shoulders.  
Miliband doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans against him and his hair brushes David's cheek. David's heart is beating too fast and he turns his face and his lips almost, almost brush Miliband's forehead.  
He stops dead, but his arm's still around Miliband's shoulders and his heart feels as though it's trying to break through his ribs. "Miliband-what's happened?" His arm tightens around him and he says the words almost into Miliband's hair-"You can tell me."  
Miliband shakes his head, and his voice is trembling. "It hurts" he says and his voice breaks into what sounds like a whimper. "My head hurts, Cameron."  
David stares at him. "Right. I've got some paracetamol-" but Miliband's hand closes on the edge of his sleeve and David swallows hard as Miliband holds onto him.  
"Don't-don't go."  
David swallows and then Miliband takes in a deep, shuddering breath that sounds almost like a sob, and then David's other arm is around him before he can stop himself and he's saying "OK. OK, I won't, I won't-it's OK, Ed-it's OK-what's wrong-"  
Ed looks up at him then, eyes darker than ever in his face, a little thinner and paler than David remembers in months past. "I just-I haven't been sleeping well-" he says and his voice is hoarse. "And I keep-" He shakes his head. "I keep-I mean, I don't know what to do, I keep trying and everyone knows-everything's gone _wrong_ and it feels like I-I can't breathe, C-Cameron, it feels as though I can't _breathe-"_  
"Ed-" And David's on the arm of the chair before he knows what he's doing, his hands moving to Miliband's shoulders, and there are hoarse, frantic gasps coming from Miliband's mouth. He holds Miliband's shoulders, frantically trying to recall all the medical advice he's heard over the years, all the sensible things to do, when he can feel cold, heavy panic settling in his stomach, his own chest tightening, his arms fighting not to throw themselves around Miliband's shoulders and simply shake the fear out of his big dark eyes.  
"Ed, listen to me" he says and he keeps his voice calm over everything else, over the way Miliband's clinging to his arm, gasping. "It's just a panic attack. You can breathe, it just feels like you can't, but you _can_ , honestly. You're taking in too much oxygen. You need to slow your breathing down. Just breathe normally. Breathe normally-"  
"I-can't-"  
"Yes, you can. Don't speak. I know that'll be difficult for you-"  
Ed's still gasping but he manages a hoarse laugh through his gasps and David grips his shoulders tighter, encouraged.  
"That's it. Now, just close your eyes and take a deep breath. It's OK-it's OK, it's OK, it's OK-"  
The words become mindless, muttered, but his hands are on Ed's shoulders and Ed's gasping gradually becomes slower, more muted, his hands fastening around David's wrists when it seems his breathing's about to speed up again. He squeezes so hard it hurts and David doesn't even care. He just keeps his eyes on Miliband's, whispering to him, until his breathing gradually slows down, and finally, he's taking deeper, slower breaths, slumping back into the chair.  
"I-I-" he starts, and David shakes his head. "Shh" he says and he puts his finger gently to Miliband's lips, careful not to cover them in case that starts the panic all over again-"It's going to be OK. Here, I'll have a glass of water sent up-"  
Miliband shakes his head vehemently. "No, no, don't, don't-"  
David stares at him. "But it'll help-"  
Ed shakes his head. "I don't-I don't want anyone to know-I didn't want-I didn't want you to know, I-I can't l-let anyone know-" His chest is rising and falling again and David leans forward and then Ed's hand is between both of his.  
"OK. I'll say it's for me. I'll go to the door and get it. They don't even need to know you're in here. But the water will help, OK?"  
Miliband takes a deep, shuddering breath and nods. David squeezes his hand and then realises Miliband is gripping back just as hard.  
"Has this happened before?" he asks, after a few moments, and Ed bites his lip and stares at his knees. David's hand's at his chin before he's thinking and then he tilts Ed's face up to look at him and tries not to notice how easy it would be to trace his bottom lip, coax his mouth open.  
"Ed?" he says and Ed nods quickly, eyes dropping back to his knees, as David closes his eyes. "Oh, for- _Miliband"_ he says, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. "Why didn't you tell m-someone?"  
Miliband's eyes meet his, and the unspoken word is there between them, like a breath.  
When Miiliband speaks, his voice is low and careful, each word whispered. "Cameron, you have enough on your plate." When David opens his mouth to respond, Miliband cuts him off, and this time, a small smirk is back at his mouth. "Any Prime Minister would but particularly one who isn't suited to the job."  
Something about the tone stings and Miliband must see it in David' s face because he frowns. "Th-sorry. I'm-that didn't come out the way I meant it to."  
David swallows. "It's fine." He looks at Miliband, takes in the shadows under his eyes, the ashen tinge to his skin. "This has been happening for a while, hasn't it?"  
Miliband nods. David wonders if he's just too tired to care anymore. He watches Miliband's hands massage his temples.  
Then, abruptly, he slides his hand back under Miliband's chin and tilts his head up. "That's it. You're going home to get some rest and I'm going with you."  
Miliband's eyes widen and David immediately plays the words back in his head and could kick himself.  
It's not until they're leaving the office that Miliband touches his shoulder and says "Th-Thank you."  
David rubs his thumb across his palm gently and then realises that he's still holding onto Miliband's hand and doesn't let himself wonder why he hasn't let go.  
*  
Miliband almost passes out asleep as security drives them to his house, and it takes him a couple of tries just to get his keys in the front door. David waits on the landing, while Miliband disappears into his bedroom.  
He calls Sam, to tell her what's going on and he listens to the long silence on the other end of the phone.  
"Are you angry?" he says uncertainly, and then reminds himself she might have every right to be.  
"No" she says quietly and then she says "He needs you."  
"I know-but-"  
"And you want to be with him."  
It's not a question. "Yes" David says without thinking, and then wonders if she means just at this moment.  
Then he wonders if-  
"Look after him" Sam says, her voice gentle. "Make sure he has a cup of tea."  
David smiles. "You can't go wrong-"  
"With a cup of tea." Something they've always repeated together. David smiles and feels that aching twinge in his chest, that he gets when he thinks about Sam and Miliband.  
"David" Sam says quietly. "I'm not going to hate you."  
David jumps. "I-I didn't say-"  
"I know-but I wanted you to know that. If you-"  
David can't let her say it, so he makes an excuse.  
He navigates Miliband's kitchen- _two_ kitchens-to follow Sam's drinks advice and when he knocks on Miliband's door, there's no answer. David waits, his heart picking up, even as he tells himself that it's fine, it's fine, Miliband's fine-  
"Miliband?" He takes a moment and then slowly opens the door.  
Miliband's lying on the bed, mostly dressed in a pair of pyjamas that make David grin-trust Miliband to have Daleks on the bottoms-with his shirt half undone, his eyes closed, and his chest rising and falling gently. David watches him for a moment, then carefully steps across the room and places the tea on the bedside table.  
Miliband stirs, eyes flickering. "Cameron?"  
"Just made you a cup of tea." David produces two tablets and a bottle of mineral water, which Miliband carefully tips into his mouth and swallows. "When's Justine home?"  
Miliband shakes his head. "She and the boys-away for the night-"  
David nods. "Maybe-maybe you shouldn't be on your own" he says and then feels the blood rush to his cheeks as Miliband glances at him.  
"What are you saying, Cameron?" But the words are soft and when David meets Miliband's eyes, there's something caught there between them, and David says the words gently, his heart beating so loudly he's sure Miliband must hear it. "I could stay with you."  
*  
When he tells Sam, he tells her over and over that it's just to look after him, and he doesn't know who he's trying to convince, anymore.  
But it's Sam who says "David, it's OK. I know."  
And he knows that she's not just referring to the current situation and that just makes him stare at the phone and then stare at Miliband lying in bed. And then realise that he's standing in Ed Miliband's bedroom, and he wonders quite what has happened to his life over the last few months.  
Miliband's sipping his tea, his head nodding, and it's David who rescues the cup from his limp fingers, and then, his mouth a few inches from Miliband's ear, says "I hope I chose the right kitchen to make the tea in. Difficult, being two-"  
He watches Miliband's mouth twitch into a smirk as he murmurs "Shut up, Cameron" and David's glad his eyes are closed so Miliband doesn't catch his smile.  
He watches Miliband for a while, and when he eventually goes into one of the guest rooms, he finds himself waking up every few hours, and every time he wonders how he's ended up in Ed Miliband's guest bedroom, waking up to go and stand in Miliband's bedroom door and check he's still breathing.  
Every time he is, and every time David has to fight with himself not to brush a stray lock of hair off Miliband's face as he sleeps.  
He stares down at him and tries to make himself whisper the words and each time, he shakes his head and leaves. Outside, he leans against the bedroom door, his head against the wood, his eyes closed, the push-pull in his chest. And he wonders how this has even happened, how this thing between him and Miliband has grown and expanded and taken over everything, and how the first person he thinks of talking to and carping at and arguing with is Miliband-annoyingly idealistic, endearingly geeky, irritatingly, infuriatingly, maddeningly self-righteous _Miliband_ \- and how has this happened?  
He tries to force the words out of his mouth but he can't so he collapses in the guest room and dreams that he's tucking that strand of hair behind Miliband's ear, listening to him muttering about _Tory arrogance_ and trying not to smile.  
*  
The next morning, Miliband has some colour in his cheeks, and he's smiling more easily. David makes sure he's fully dressed before he leaves the bedroom and he's relieved to see that he doesn't have to deal with the sight of Miliband in a dressing gown.  
What he does find is the smell of burnt bacon, and Miliband apologizing profusely, with frantic explanations of "not being very good at cooking."  
David can't stop laughing for five minutes and halfway through helping Ed through the bacon and eggs, leans in and says "Surprising with two kitchens to practice in."  
He dodges as Miliband swats him with a tea towel.  
It isn't until they've finished eating that he says "If it happens again, you can call me" without thinking the words through and Miliband stares at him as though he's spoken in Swahili.  
David feels the blood rise to his cheeks and he says "I mean-um-if you want to-because-I'll-be here-I'll-I'm here if you need-well-you know what I mean."  
He closes his mouth on possibly the least eloquent speech he has ever made to Miliband, and waits for the inevitable retort.  
Miliband's mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. Then, he says, almost inaudibly "Thank you."  
David stares at him and then he reaches across the table and it isn't until his fingers almost brush Miliband's that he realises he was about to take Miliband's hand.  
He immediately pretends he was reaching for the milk jug and almost knocks it over. They avoid each other's eyes and he watches the blood creep up Miliband's cheeks and looks away when Miliband's eyes meet his.  
Their eyes meet and glance away in the back of the car, meet and glance away, and David wonders why he can't dredge the words up from somewhere, drag them up and say what's happening, this _thing_ that neither of them touch or whisper or say. But he doesn't and it just sits there between them, this thing that they could make real with one word.  
*  
It's a few days later that Justine takes Ed they need to take a break and instead of feeling devastated, instead of feeling crushed, instead of feeling like the world is ending, all he feels is relieved.  
"It's not that I don't love you" Justine says over and over, her hands in Ed's, and Ed can't even find the words to tell her he knows it's not that, if there's one thing that he _does_ know. "It's not-it's not just-because of-because-"  
And he sees her lost for words and he knows that he's done that, taken her words away for this thing that's between him and Cameron, for the way Cameron's eyes dart to his and away again, for the way Cameron's thumb traced his palm as gently as if it might break. Cameron, of all people, bloody smug, cocky, entitled, irritatingly endearing _Cameron-_  
Justine leans up and presses her mouth to his once, a lingering kiss that ends with her forehead pressed against his. "I love you" she says and he swallows. "I love you" he says, and he means it but that's not all he means and she knows it.  
She rests her hand on his neck. "Ed" and she stares up at him. "Maybe-maybe you need to talk to-maybe you need to tell-"  
Ed stares at her and she shakes her head. "No, it-ignore me, it doesn't matter-"  
Ed blinks and she says "It's just-maybe it's not just you. Maybe-if you told him-"  
Ed shakes his head because he can't hear her say it because there might be this _thing_ between him-him and-but he can't let her say it.  
He looks at her and says "Everything'll be fine" and tries to believe it.  
It's easier than he expected. Justine and the boys are only a few miles away and he sees the boys every other day. The fact he's no longer leading a party and constantly drafting questions to throw at Cameron means that he's mostly able to be there when they get in from school and they even manage to squeeze in a few trips to the park in a week or to the cinema on Saturdays, where Justine sometimes joins them. Justine tells him, after the first couple of weeks, that she wants to wait a few months to talk about everything and he agrees, because even though he misses her, and misses the boys like a constant ache under his ribs, he's sleeping better. His chest feels looser and his head feels easier to hold up. The shadows under his eyes have faded, and he catches himself smiling more easily in the mirror. When the boys are here, they scramble onto his knee and hold on tightly, planting kisses on his cheeks and he feels as though he's being eaten up inside with how much he loves them.  
He misses Justine but something about not feeling that constant push-and-pull back and forth between her and-her and-well, something about it's easier.  
But now that he sleeps better, his dreams are clearer and that means he's waking up more and more often with his heart pounding and his fingers digging into the sheets, mouthing things into the pillow that his conscious mind wouldn't even think of. He tries to tell himself it's normal to find his eyes flying open staring at the ceiling, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, mouth open around Cameron's name, and he tries to pretend it's normal to find his eyes flickering to Cameron's lips more and more often when they're arguing, and to sometimes find themselves sitting in a silence that doesn't feel as uncomfortable as it should.  
A few times a week, Cameron calls him and it starts out generally with "How are yous?" and discussions of whatever issue's been debated in the House that day but then somehow, one of them will mention something, something that's happened during the day, something they've read-even on one occasion, the traffic, the _traffic_ , for God's sake-and the conversation will wander somewhere else.  
"It's a lot" Cameron says at first, when Miliband asks how he's doing. "But I can handle it."  
Ed nods and lets Cameron ignore the tiredness in his own voice and night by night, Cameron lets himself sound a little tireder, a little less certain. Ed doesn't feel any sense of triumph. Instead, he catches himself chewing his lip and at one point, his hand even lifts, wanting to find Cameron's shoulder, only to find himself staring stupidly into thin air.  
"Sometimes, I wonder" Cameron says and Ed bites his lip at the tone. "If I'm doing anything right at all."  
"Don't be ridiculous" Ed says before he can think twice. "People voted for you."  
"Does that help right now?" Cameron laughs but the sound's devoid of any humour. "People from the-" He laughs again. "Well, from the left and right are after my head-"  
"That's because you've just come back into power" Ed finds himself arguing. "Of course they're going to be after you. They'd have been after me, they'd have been after Nick. It's not _personal_ , Cameron."  
Cameron's voice is low. "It feels like it."  
Ed snorts. "Cameron, of all people, I think I might know better about personal attacks."  
Cameron's voice is lighter on the other end, then. "Still annoyed about that bacon sandwich photo?"  
"At least, you've still got the presence of mind to throw insults, Cameron."  
Cameron laughs again-"No, really, I didn't mean it like-" He sighs and takes a deep breath. "I'm just quite tired, I suppose" he says and the tone is so sad that Ed wishes they were in the same room, so he could-  
"I didn't entirely imagine it was going to be like this" Cameron says and Ed takes a deep breath.  
"You're doing well" he tells him, and he means it. "You are, and you've got to stop letting people convince you otherwise. You're doing well, even if I disagree with you on everything."  
Cameron laughs and this time the sound is lighter still. Ed swallows.  
"I mean it" he says, once Cameron's laughter on the other end has died down-"You are doing-" He searches for the word and what comes out is "Brilliantly. David."  
He thinks he hears Cameron's breath catch on the other end of the phone but it could be his imagination. And then he hears "Thank you. Ed."  
The conversation lasts longer that night and Ed spends the whole time trying to convince himself that it's normal to not be able to stop imagining Cameron is sitting next to him, their hands close enough to brush.  
"Daddy-" says Daniel, a few days later, who's at the stage of asking questions about everything. "You're still on the phone a lot" and Ed feels himself freeze because one of the few benefits of no longer being a party leader is supposed to be that he's able to spend _more_ time with his children, not less.  
"But now-" Daniel says, before Ed can start to answer. "You laugh a lot more."  
Ed swallows. "Do I?"  
"Are you going out with somebody who isn't Mummy?"  
Ed almost chokes. _"No!_ No, Daniel-of course, of course, I'm not-why on earth-"  
Daniel shrugs and stares at the television, looking remarkably unperturbed. "Just because you always sort of laugh a lot when you're on the phone. And you always sound like you're teasing someone."  
"Like I'm _teasing_ someone?"  
"The other day, you-you went "Well, I think we've all learnt not to except-"  
"Expect?"  
"Expect more from you", but you were laughing while you said it and then you went "Oh, shut up, Cameron" but you were giggling while you said it-"  
"I wasn't _giggling_ , I was-" Ed feels the blood rise to his cheeks. _"Laughing."_  
_"Giggling._ It was girly, like you were being tickled." Daniel then promptly turns back to the TV screen, apparently bored with the conversation, while Ed mouths silently behind him, trying to protest the obviously incorrect implication that Cameron makes him laugh like a _schoolgirl._  
Cameron always asks if he's all right each phone call and something about the concern in his voice makes Ed chew his lip and try to ignore the grin that spreads over his face.  
*  
"Of course you enjoyed the film. I mean-it wouldn't occur to you that it was a completely biased and unfair representation of the miners' strike-"  
"Of course, it wouldn't occur to you that the Tories could ever, in any way, have been wrong-"  
"Excuse me, Miliband, thanks to Labour, we had to rescue the country from going under-"  
"Because you've never used _that_ argument before, Cameron-"  
"Well, if Labour didn't repeat their mistakes-"  
"Well, if the Tories could find new arguments-"  
"You're one to talk about new arguments, Miliband-"  
"Really, Cameron, because it's not as if we've had thith-this argument a number of times-"  
"Really? Given your habit of bringing up old points, I got the impression you enjoyed it-"  
_"I_ have a habit of bringing up old points?"  
"I'm glad you managed to pick that up, Miliband, it shows you might be making progress-"  
"Cameron, you do know debates aren't meant to centre around insulth-insults-"  
"I throw insults? I throw insults?"  
"I'm glad you agree."  
"I notice you've completely skipped the bias question."  
"Well, you'd know all about skipping questions."  
"Learnt it from Labour."  
"Cameron, you're th-starting to sound as though you're a bit obth-sessed with Labour."  
_"Obsessed?_ I'm not _obsessed-"_  
"You know what I mean. It's like pulling pigtails with children-"  
"What, when a boy teases a girl he-he-um-"  
"Well. Yes."  
"W-well-um-"  
"I-maybe I-"  
"I thought you-you didn't want politics to be personal, Miliband?"  
"I said I didn't personally _hate_ people. Of course, I know paying attention to detail is a foreign concept to _you-"_  
"I think I paid perfect attention there, Miliband."  
"Maybe I've misjudged you."  
"Maybe you have."  
"Miliband?"  
"Cameron?"  
"I-I-um-"  
"You-"  
"...Nothing. Doesn't matter."  
*  
It's Miliband's neck that makes him do it. It happens when Miliband's bending over his desk to check the signature on a paper. "So, if I sign this-"  
David's breath catches in his throat as a lock of Miliband's hair falls over his forehead-he tries to think the usual words, _irritating, annoying, self-righteous_ -but his eyes find the smooth arch of Miliband's neck and suddenly, that's the only interesting thing in the room. David's hands curl around the back of the chair, his tongue tracing his lips, unable to drag his eyes away from Miliband's neck. He grips the chair a little tighter, struggling to stop his hands betraying him.  
Miliband's saying something and David has to drag his mind back to the conversation. "What was that?"  
Miliband cocks his head and gives David the customary smirk over his shoulder. "Cameron, I know Tories have trouble concentrating-" He breaks off and rubs the back of his neck with one hand and David digs his teeth into his lip so hard it almost draws blood.  
"Ah-" Miliband grimaces and that drags David out of his trance enough to ask "What's wrong?"  
Miliband shakes his head. "Nothing. Just pulled a muscle in my neck-" He stretches, and the sight of those long fingers pressed against that smooth skin makes David's knuckles whiten on the chair back again. "It'th-it's a pain, really-"  
The sound of the lisp in his voice just reminds David all too clearly of those dreams, and he swallows and tries to remind himself that it's _Miliband-_  
But then it's Miliband he's been talking to on the phone over and over again, and it's Miliband who he stayed a whole night with and it's Miliband who manages to drag a smile to his mouth without even being in the same room, just from being in his head-it's _Miliband_ and somehow that's stopped being a bad thing.  
Miliband's chewing his lip and he's rubbing at the back of his neck and David steps forward, almost without thinking. Maybe not quite without thinking.  
"Here" he says and his voice is hoarse. He reaches out, and he's close enough to Miliband to feel the heat of his skin. Close enough to let his hands reach up, and close enough to let himself know, a certain dizzying knowledge, what he's doing. Know that he wants to do it.  
He lets one hand slide gently onto the back of Miliband's neck and he feels Miliband stiffen. Slowly, he moves his hand in a soothing circle and Miliband twitches.  
David freezes, hands against Miliband's skin. "Is-is this-is that OK-"  
Miliband draws in one sharp breath and he nods. David lets his hand move again and Miliband's shoulders relax, as David steps up behind him, his chin almost on Miliband's shoulder, as he massages Miliband's neck gently. He can feel everything-the way Miliband's breathing is faster, the pulse beating in his neck when his finger hits the right spot, the brush of Miliband's hair against his nose as his head spins, so close he could bury his lips in the warmth of Miliband's hair and skin.  
He moves his hands a little harder and Miliband makes a sound in the back of his throat. When David's eyes drift to Miliband's hands, he catches them clutching onto the edge of the desk, and when he circles his thumb a little deeper, Miliband shudders once and a small, thin sound comes from his mouth-"C-Cameron-"  
David keeps stroking his neck, his own breath coming harsher, deeper, heart beating almost painfully. He circles the spot on Miliband's neck that elicits that shudder, and another desperate little sound comes from Miliband's throat.  
"Shh-" David doesn't know how it's come to this, but all he can focus on is the feeling of Miliband's skin under his fingers, the way his breathing quickens when David's fingers linger and the soft sigh as David gently massages one last circle into his neck, before giving his shoulders a last comforting squeeze.  
Miliband draws in a deep breath as David's hands fall away and David feels the change between them at that moment, feels the new, different thing he's just dragged into the open, breathing between them, too alive to ignore.  
Miliband turns round slowly and David feels dizzy. Miliband's cheeks are flushed and his eyes seem several shades darker, and there's something burning in them, as his tongue moves nervously over his bottom lip. They're so close that their ties are brushing and David lets his eyes meet Miliband's, watches him chew his lip in that stupid-that stupid, bloody, endearing-  
"C-Cameron-" Miliband says and David leans forward automatically, because he has to do something, anything, and the wanting is in his hands, his arms, to touch Miliband's skin, to tuck that lock of hair behind his ear-

 

He leans forward and he sees Miliband's eyes widen and for a long second he's watching Miliband's head tilt to the side, feeling the moment stretch out as Miliband's nose knocks into David's and then before he can laugh, before he can take a breath, Miliband's mouth bumps awkwardly into his own.  
Their lips graze each other and the world doesn't disappear. David can feel everything-he's acutely aware of his heart hammering as Miliband's lips move uncertainly with his own, both of their chests rising and falling-his eyes are open, he realises a second too late, and Miliband's eyes are closed and Miliband's mouth opens clumsily against his own and David presses his own mouth closer into Miliband's , his eyes closing as their mouths move together, warm and open and David feels and hears one of them take in a breath that shudders and Miliband's hands scrabble at his jaw. Miliband's hands are shaking a little and it's crashing into David, the sheer certainty of what they're doing-everything at once, the room and the little sound laced with a gasp in Miliband's throat and how long and gentle Miliband's fingers are and how soft his hair is when it brushes David's fingers and his mouth-oh God, his mouth-  
And then suddenly Miliband breaks away from him, his mouth opening, his eyes flying wide to stare at David, his cheeks warm as David's hand falls from his hair. Miliband stares at him, his mouth opening and closing, his lips swollen and David wants to push his mouth back into Miliband's, wants-  
"I-" Miliband is staring at him, with the look of someone who's only just realised what they're doing and has just discovered they might have brought the world crashing down around them. "I-I'm th-I'm so-I'm th-sorry-"  
David stares at him. "Ed-"  
Miliband shakes his head and turns and heads for the door.  
David stares after him for a split second and then knows. He can't explain it, but he knows, knows exactly what he's going to do, the same way he did a few minutes ago. It's a moment when he makes up his mind, makes up his mind about the push and the pull of feelings that have been dragging him back and forth for months.  
He knows. For the first time in months, he knows. Maybe longer than months.  
He knows and so, in a manner probably completely undignifed for a Prime Minister, he chases Miliband out of the door.  
It's only been a matter of seconds and Miliband's walking-walking fast, but not running-so he's only a few steps ahead when David flings the door open, and bursts into the corridor. "Ed, wait-"  
He's shouting and his voice fills the corridor and Miliband turns round, his jaw dropping, presumably at the sight of David running-full-out _running_ -down the corridor, his hair still wild, shouting loud enough for the whole House to hear and shouting for _him._  
"Ed-" David manages to get near enough to reach for his sleeve before Miliband can turn away and David grabs him and says the first thing he can think of- "I don't want you to go."  
Ed's trembling, and his hands drag through his hair. "I'm-I'm tho-I'm tho th-sorry-I-" The lisp is back and Ed clearly knows it-his teeth are digging into his lip and he's trembling and David has his hands on his shoulders and he's holding him because he's not letting him leave this right now.  
"I thought it was me who's supposed to run away from issues?" he tries, hoping the tone will relax Ed a little but Ed just avoids his eyes, chewing frantically at his lip.  
"I'm-I didn't mean-I-God, I'm th-so sorry-I-"  
"Ed-" David steps closer to him, and Ed shakes his head, meeting David's eyes with an anguished look. "I-I've ruined everything" he whispers and that's when David tightens his hand on Ed's shoulder and presses their foreheads together and says "No, you haven't."  
Ed stares at him, his eyes huge and David can see the shock on his face as David slides his hand down his arm, takes hold of his hand. He's not even thinking of who could see. He's not even caring.  
"Come back with me" he says, his voice a breath. "Please. Come back into my office with me. I don't have to be anywhere." He falters for a moment. "Unless-unless you have to be-?"  
Ed stares at him for a long moment and then shakes his head slowly. "I-" he starts and then nods. "All right" and the words are a whisper.  
The walk back to his office seems to take an eternity and David keeps a hand hovering over Ed's shoulders the whole time. It isn't until they've got the door shut behind them that Ed begins babbling again. "I-I didn't mean to-I know-I know you don't-I'm th-so sorry, I didn't, I didn't mean-"  
David steps towards him and places his hands on his shoulders. "Ed." He looks at him, takes in the dark eyes, the pout of his mouth, the way his eyelashes brush his cheeks. He drinks it in, feeling as though he's been starved of it, and he doesn't feel guilty for the first time.  
He slides his hand under Ed's chin. "I know you like to presume you know what I'm going to say" he says, softly. "But I think you should at least give me a chance to answer the question."  
Ed blinks. "I didn't ask you a question" he says, frowning, and the answer is so typically _Miliband_ that a little laugh breaks from David's mouth and he pulls Miliband closer to him, their noses brushing.  
"You say I should give you a straight answer?" he asks and Miliband nods uncertainly. "OK." He looks at Miliband for a long second and swallows hard, lets his hands rest on his shoulders as he whispers the words. "I want to kiss you."  
Miliband's eyes widen and David falters-"I mean-I mean, only if you want to-" he says, suddenly afraid to catch Miliband's eyes and this time it's Miliband who touches his cheek nervously, as their hands navigate this strange new closeness between them.  
Miliband meets his eyes and nods once, rapidly, his own eyes roving to David's mouth. He stares at David, one eyebrow arching, and David touches his arm.  
"We could sit on the couch" he says, voice low. "I mean-if it'll be easier-"  
Miliband swallows and nods. David turns to the door and flips the lock. Miliband stares at him and David steps closer.  
"We don't have to do anything" he says and Miliband nods shakily. "It's just-I thought you might be-you know-oh God, I'm not good at this-"  
A small smile breaks over Miliband's mouth. "David Cameron admits he's not good at something? I'll have to check the weather channel-th-see if hell's frozen over-"  
David shakes his head. "Shut up, Miliband" he says but he's smiling and then he takes Miliband's hand without thinking. He doesn't let go until they're sitting on the couch.  
It's awkward at first- _they're_ awkward at first, learning their way around each other's mouths. Ed's first few kisses are timid, almost chaste, but David lets him gain some confidence, careful to keep his own mouth gentle. For a moment, that's almost enough, these little whispers of kisses that make David's heart race, make tension coil tighter and tighter in his chest. He feels drunk on Miliband's skin, the inches of it he's mapping next to his mouth. He's never paid this much attention to the little curve of Miliband's mouth, and this seems like a shameful oversight on his part now, when he's kissing and whispering into that mouth and these little whispers of kisses are sending his heart hammering as if it could break out of his ribs, until his mouth opens without him thinking and it feels like heaven for a moment. Then he feels Ed's moan vibrate against his chest and into his mouth and it's the best thing there is and his hand fastens in Ed's hair as he lets himself taste the warmth inside his mouth, his thumb drawing soft circles at Ed's temple.  
Ed's making soft little noises into David's mouth that make David's fingers tighten in his hair and leave him almost dragging Miliband against him, pressing his mouth closer and closer into Miliband's as if they could disappear into each other if they tried hard enough. Their mouths are open now, hot and desperate, and when their tongues dance over one another, the sensation is like an electric current from David's skull to his hands to his feet, that brings his arms up to grip Miliband tighter, that leaves him breaking away for a moment to gasp "Oh God, Miliband-"  
He ends up kissing Miliband's chin, of all places, missing his mouth, and then just carrying on, mouthing at his skin, drunk on how it feels against his lips, and Miliband doesn't stop him, just lets his fingers stroke David's hair, making encouraging noises as David's mouth slides over his jaw, noises that climb higher as David's mouth finds his neck and the feel of Miliband's pulse pounding under his mouth does something to David's head, sends him half-crazily kissing and sucking at his skin, mouthing Miliband's name. He's forgotten any other word. His brain has thrown out everything that isn't to do with kissing, Miliband or kissing Miliband.  
That's what it seems like until he takes in a deep breath against Miliband's skin and whispers "I've wanted to do this for ages, oh God, I've wanted this for so long-" before Miliband grabs his collar- _Miliband grabs his collar_ -and yanks him up to push their mouths together so hard David shudders, Miliband's fingers digging into his neck so hard it almost hurts, and it feels so good David doesn't want it to ever stop.  
It's when they've got their hands sliding down each other's collars working at each other's ties, brushing skin through the gaps between buttons, (Each brush is the high note of a song. David has never loved high notes so much. He thinks he could live on them) and he's murmuring "Ed, please, Ed" when he doesn't even know precisely what he's asking for that Ed leans back, his hair a complete mess, his eyes wide, looking so utterly debauched that David has to clench his fists so that he doesn't drag their mouths back together. "I-David, Sam, what would Sam-"  
David shakes his head. "She knows" he murmurs , and Ed stares at him, eyes wide. "You mean-"  
"She-guessed" he says, and he closes his eyes. "I mean-she didn't say your name, but she didn't have to. We both knew who she was talking about. She wasn't angry" he says quickly and then stares at Ed. "Justine-"  
Ed swallows and nods. David stares at him and then lets his hand settle in Ed's hair. "We're in a mess, aren't we?" he says quietly, and Ed nods and then leans against him, so that David's arms are around him, and David lets one hand tousle Ed's black hair while the other rubs his back. Their breath is still harsh on the air, David's heart pounding, but his arm slides around Miliband and he presses his head against Miliband's hair, feeling drunk on a different kind of closeness.  
Ed sighs. "I don't know what-I didn't let myself think about it" he says suddenly, and David tilts his head down to stare at him. Ed returns the gaze, anguished look back on his face. "I didn't let myself think-about what I felt. Because-of everything-"  
David lets his thumb shush Miliband, grazing his lips with the very tip, and swallows. "Neither did I" he says, voice just above a whisper. "I didn't let myself. But-I-" The words come out, cliched, stupidly cliched, but true-"I can't stop thinking about you."  
Miliband's lips twitch. "I know you like cliches, Cameron-"  
"Take a compliment, would you, Miliband? I know you're not used to them but-"  
He breaks off at the sight of the look on Ed's face, the softness of the eyes as they roam over David's mouth, and then Ed says, very quietly "Not ones like that."  
David stares at him, taking in the sheer rawness of the line and searches for a retort, a carefully-crafted remark to throw at him but staring at Ed right now, he isn't sure he wants to, and instead, he leans in and gently presses his mouth to Ed's again. This time, the kissing is softer, exploring, gentle and it's afterwards when David's murmuring into the crook of Ed's neck (He's looked at this neck for years and how has he never realised he wants his mouth against Miliband's skin like _this_ and he wants to taste the curve of his jaw like _that?_ He needs to make up for lost time.) "You're going to need to brush your hair before we leave" that Ed turns around and gently kisses his cheek in a way that's so utterly sweet that David just stares at him and says "I-"  
He tries to make himself say the words but he can't yet, so he just buries his lips in Ed's hair again and laces their fingers together.  
"You might want to take that hair advice, Cameron" Ed whispers against his ear, and he can feel his lips crooked into a grin against his neck. "I know taking advice is an alien concept-"  
"It should probably remain one, when it's from you, Miliband."  
Ed laughs softly and then David tilts his head and presses their mouths together again, a kiss that's messy and unrehearsed and fumbling, and in the end that just makes the whole thing better.  
*  
That night, he sits Sam down and tells her "You were right."  
She looks at him for a long moment and then says "What happened?"  
David stares at his knees and then says "I kissed him."  
"I'm amazed."  
When he looks up cautiously, she looks as if she's trying to hide a smile. He stares at her and she must see something in his expression.  
"I'm not going to pretend I'm thrilled you kissed him" she says and David swallows. "But-I suppose in a way, I told you it was going to happen."  
David frowns. "This isn't your fault-" and Sam cuts him off with a hand raised and a sharp laugh. "Oh, I know it's not _my_ fault" she says and she laughs again. "Trust me, I don't need you to tell me it wasn't _my_ fault."  
David swallows. Abruptly, Sam's laughter dies away and she stares at him for a long moment. "It's a lot to take in, David, that's all" she says, slowly. "Even if it's something I saw coming, it's still a lot to take in."  
David nods and she stares at him. "You love me" she says and he nods frantically because he does, he does, but-  
"You love him" she says and he lowers his head. "I-"  
Sam waits for a moment and covers his hand. "You'll know" she says.  
David keeps his eyes on his knees. "Are you going to leave me?"  
Sam takes a long time to answer that. "I don't think so" she says and David knows he'll have to be content with that.  
But he can't give her the promise he should give her because he knows he won't be able to keep it. Sam watches him and then says "You want to be with him, don't you?"  
David presses his face into his hands and says "I want to be with you, too." He winces. "I didn't mean it to come out like that."  
Sam leans forward and gently peels away his hands from his face. "David" she says. "Maybe you can love two people at once."  
David swallows. "But-you've got to know-I-I never thought-"  
Sam laughs. "David" she says and the sound's a little lighter this time. "I think you might have been the last to know."  
*  
Ed decides he doesn't need to tell Justine yet. They're on a break. And he knows that she suspects it, anyway.  
That doesn't make it any less awkward when she says, a few weeks later, "You're seeing someone, aren't you?"  
Ed opens and closes his mouth and then says, desperately "It's not instead of you."  
Justine watches him. "Is it as well as me?" she says and he can't answer.  
She closes her eyes and says "It's him, isn't-" But she doesn't finish the sentence.  
Ed swallows. "I-" he says and Justine leans her head on her hands and he says, stupidly, "Are you angry?"  
"Of course I'm angry." She snaps her head up to stare at him and her eyes are wild. "But I'm angry because I knew it was coming, and because I couldn't have stopped it!"  
Ed chews at his lip. "I-I'm th-"  
"Don't say you're sorry" she tells him and then she covers his hand. "I don't want you to say sorry."  
He takes a deep breath and then says "Do you want me to tell him I won't see him again?"  
Justine meets his eyes then, and very quietly, she says, "No. Because I know you want to. That wouldn't change."  
Ed swallows hard and he says "Justine-I-"  
She holds up a hand. "I-I need some time, Ed."  
He stares at her. "I love you" he says because it's the truth and she needs to hear it.  
For a moment, he thinks Justine's going to laugh but then she says "I know" and she smiles, a sad smile that makes his chest ache. "Maybe that makes it harder."  
He stares at her and wishes he could tell her something more, but the only other words that are there need to be said to someone else and he's not ready to say them anyway.  
*  
The next time they see each other, it's awkward at first-Ed stares at his feet and David jabbers about the financial figures George just gave him and they both stare at each other when they think the other isn't looking.  
It's David who says "Oh, sod this" halfway through an explanation of the benefits of some tax cut, and even before Ed's mouth has dropped completely open, he's across the room, gently guiding their mouths together, backing Ed up against the wall, half-dragging his suit from his shoulders. Ed whines and lets his head fall back, while David's mouth explores his neck, eliciting sharp gasps from his throat. Ed's about to make a remark about showing his customary disdain for economic facts, but he only gets as far as "I see your usual-" before David smirks at him and then nibbles the spot just above Ed's collar that makes his eyes roll and what comes out of his mouth next is "Disdain fo-ahh, _Cameron-"_  
His head falls back against the wall as David drags his mouth over the same spot and his eyes close, before a nip of David's teeth has them flying open, words crumbling from his throat in a moan. "Oh-oh God, Cameron- _pleathe-"_  
He can't even be embarrassed at the lisp and David's mouth seems to have decided that spot is where it wants to be most in the world. Ed can hear the whimpers filling the room, knows they're coming from his own throat and blindly throws one hand out, grasping at the wall for purchase, anything to anchor himself in the midst of all the sensation. When David nibbles at his collarbone, the sound that comes out of his mouth is so desperate, he feels David's laughter shake across his skin and somehow, he uses the last scraps of coherent thought to slap a hand over his own mouth. His whimpers break against his fingers as he presses his hand harder and harder against his mouth, biting his lip as he falls back against the wall. (His legs have forgotten how to be legs. They've given their notice. Walked out on the job.) Ed presses his hand against his mouth harder but even that can't stop the little cracks of sound escaping, little whimpers that make Cameron smirk against his skin, even as Ed tips his head back to give him better access, the skin on his neck alive for Cameron's mouth.  
He gets his own back on David once they end up on the couch together running his fingers under David's collar and enjoying the shudder that creeps through David's body each time, the way his fingers tighten each time in Ed's shirt, digging into Ed's skin in a way that feels delicious. He follows his fingers with his mouth and it's David whose head falls back, a groan breaking from his mouth of _"Jesus, Miliband"_ before he drags their mouths back together.  
It's afterwards, with his head resting against David's shoulder, their gasps still drinking at the air like they haven't breathed in days, that Ed asks "So, you're still all right with what happened, Cameron?"  
David elbows him and kisses the end of his nose. Ed tries to glare at him and fails.  
*  
They use David's office. That's where they end up with their hands in each other's hair, with David's mouth burying itself in Ed's skin, as if trying to climb into his neck, while Ed traces David's jaw with his tongue and discovers that that can always be relied upon to produce a groan of "You're going to kill me", David's eyes bright and blue and Ed doing anything he can to make them go even wider.  
That's the place they use at work. David thinks they keep it pretty discreet though at one point he catches George eyeing his neck curiously and from then on, he yanks his collar higher whenever he's not begging Miliband to keep kissing, keep tasting, keep going-  
At David's home, they can be a little more open. Sam sometimes takes the kids out on the occasions Ed comes over for work-this isn't a new development, and apart from a lingering look she sometimes gives David before they leave, Sam shows no sign of this being related to the conversation they'd had-and whenever they're alone, they still try to work, as if to keep up the pretence a little longer that this is all they intended to do.  
And then David's hand will graze Ed's neck or he'll glance up to find Ed's eyes fixed on his and then their mouths will tilt together-shyly at first and then more and more fiercely, hands grappling at each other's ties.  
Sometimes, it's not just kissing. The first time, when Sam and the kids are out for an afternoon and David asks Ed, slightly formally, if he'd like to watch a film, they sit side by side on the couch for a few minutes, until David's arm slowly creeps around Ed's shoulders and after a moment, Ed's hand creeps up to David's lacing their fingers together, pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles.  
"Cliched set-up, Cameron" he murmurs and David raises an eyebrow. "For someone who hates cliched set ups, you seem to enjoy cooperating with them" he murmurs, before he kisses Ed gently. By the end of the film, Ed's nestled under his arm, their sleeves rolled back, his fingertips tracing up and down the inside of David's wrist, learning it by heart, the smooth skin, the little crease in the inside of his elbow, the way David gasps when he traces his wristbones.  
David nibbles on Ed's ear-lobe and apparently enjoys the reaction that produces because he does it again and again, until they're closer than they've ever been before, with Ed half-straddling David's lap, their top buttons open, hands tracing the warm skin under each other's shirts, lightly at first, as if they might break and then harder, as if they're trying to climb into each other's skin, both of them gasping into each other's necks, their hearts pounding against one another.  
Other times, it's lighter. On one of the rare occasions they use Ed's house, David gently breaks away from kissing him to brush his lips over his chin, then his cheeks, under his ears, the tip of his nose, feather-light kisses that end on his eyelids, smiling when they flutter under his mouth. Ed had let out a sound suspiciously like a giggle when David had kissed his chin, but he's whimpering by the time David gets to his eyelids and when David takes advantage of the fact he's in short sleeves and brushes his lips up and down Ed's forearms, Ed can't stop the pleas that slip out of his mouth, the gasps threaded with high, frantic sounds that make David smile wickedly and trace the top button of Ed's shirt with his teeth, before moving back to his eyelids.  
When Ed can breathe again, the kisses David presses to his eyelids are less teasing, softer, and Ed doesn't stop him. When he opens his eyes, David's staring at him with an expression that makes Ed swallow, head tilted to the side with a look in his eyes that's so tender it almost aches.  
"I like your eyes" is all he says and Ed feels the blood rise to his cheeks as he murmurs "I like you."  
He bites his lip the second the words are out but David just stares at him and then with a far softer kiss, says "I like you too."  
"You've hidden that well" Ed manages before David covers his mouth and says "Don't ruin the moment, Miliband", one finger tracing lightly down his forearms which is enough to make Ed forget anything else he was going to say.  
*  
Sam walks in on them once, when they're not doing anything particularly scandalous-David just presses a kiss to Ed's mouth when they've finally managed to decide what to watch, after a few accusations involving the terms "Thatcherite" and "left-biased"-and he glances up to see Sam standing in the doorway, staring at them.  
David stares back, his mouth opening and closing fruitlessly, and Ed almost springs up from his chair, muttering frantic apologies, his eyes on the floor, and it's Sam who eventually holds up her hand and says "Ed, I know" so quietly that Ed stops in his tracks and just stands there, eyes on his shoes, before glancing awkwardly at David.  
"I'm not angry" Sam says later, looking David straight in the eye. "I just-it's not what I expected to find when I came home a little earlier than planned."  
"I-" David feels himself flush scarlet. "I know you thought we were working-"  
At that, Sam bursts out laughing and David stares at her. "What?"  
Sam, slowly recovering herself, raises an eyebrow. "David, if Doncaster needed that much help, there'd have been a mass exodus by now!"  
*  
The boys meet David a couple of times when Justine drops them off a little earlier than planned-fortunately, he and David are, for once, actually engrossed in work when they arrive-and while Samuel spends his time staring at David with wide eyes, and Daniel peppers him with questions-"Would you fight our daddy?" "Do you and our daddy ever shout at each other?"-by the end of the evening, David's got Daniel hanging firmly onto his wrist, and Sam curled up at his feet and Ed reckons that's as close to a sign of approval as he's likely to get at this stage.  
"Are you and my daddy friends now?" Daniel asks innocently as David leaves and David meets Ed's eyes over the little boy's head as he answers "Yes, Daniel. You could say that."  
David's children are used to "Mr. Miliband" being there-the same way they seem to be used to any number of people drifting in and out of Downing Street-and if they notice that he seems to be there more often than would strictly be needed, none of them comment on it, except for Nancy who tells Ed quite happily one night when she gets in from school that "It's nicer when you're here, because Daddy is too busy telling you you're wrong to tell me to do my homework."  
David advises Ed to take it as a compliment.  
He still occasionally wakes up with a headache that leaves David giving him paracetamol and telling him he needs to sleep more and generally fussing over him as though Ed's contracted pnuemonia, in a way he'd never tell David he likes. The tightness in his chest has mostly stopped, though he still occasionally catches David glancing at him worriedly across the despatch box whenever someone makes a reference to Labour's defeat, as if he might collapse right then and there.  
"What would you have done if I had?" Ed had asked fairly one night and David had stared at him as if he was stupid and said "Well, I'd have helped you, of course."  
Ed had raised an eyebrow. "In front of everyone?"  
David had put both hands on his shoulders. "Yes. I would."  
Ed had swallowed and stammered and David had smirked and told him that he was actually rather sweet when he discovered he was wrong.  
David doesn't know if the others know. He doesn't receive any comments about it from Nick and George, mainly because, aside from the time in his office, he and Miliband act exactly the same as they always have around each other-except maybe a little friendlier, a few more pats on the back, on the shoulders. Occasionally, he catches George or Nick glancing at them, eyebrows arched, when he laughs a little too loudly at some comment Ed makes, or Ed's hand lingers for a moment on his, but it's only one time they come close to approaching it.  
"So...you and Miliband seem to get on better now he's not irritating the hell out of you each week" George tells him, one lunchtime when Ed is away at his constituency, and David nods, careful to keep his expression nonchalant. "Oh, he still makes sure to irritate me." That part is true.  
George glances at him for a long moment and then says "Bet he does."  
Something in the look makes David open his mouth-to defend himself? Tell George he's wrong? Ask George what he means?-but in the end, he doesn't say anything and leaves George to make up his own mind.  
It's a few weeks later when Sam tells David she's taking the kids to visit her parents for a week, and David would usually go, but he's got meetings and work and-  
Sam looks at him and kisses his head. "Look after yourselves" she says and it isn't until later that David realises she's used the plural.  
*  
It takes him several tries to ask Miliband. He opens his mouth a few times, earning himself a few dozen confused looks and finally blurts out "Would you-would you-um-would you-"  
Miliband raises an eyebrow. "And _I_ make incoherent arguments?"  
When David doesn't reply, Miliband stares at him before he leans across the table and takes his hand. "What is it?" he says very quietly and it's then that David meets his eyes and the words trip out of his mouth. "Would you-would you consider-would you like to spend the night with me?" and the words hang softly between them.  
Ed stares at him and David feels the heat rise in his face but he keeps watching him, as Ed swallows hard and then finally, in a voice that's almost a whisper, says "Yes."  
*  
They both act a little formally with each other at first, with Ed pulling at his fingers nervously and with David going on about the pasta he's cooking-he knew not to bother pulling a big romantic meal, he had the feeling it would put both him and Miliband so on edge that it would just make the whole night more difficult-until even he's sick of the sound of his own voice and Ed just watches him with that smile that makes David want to simultaneously scream at him and grab him by the shoulders and kiss him. And since Ed's favourite subject is how David never gives a straight answer, David sits next to him and says "I'm nervous. About tonight. I don't want to get this wrong."  
Ed stares at him as though David's just told him the moon's made of cheese. Finally, he speaks slowly "I don't think there's an exact way to get it wrong." He flushes. "I mean-well, obviouth-sly, there's some ways it can go wrong, but-well, I wouldn't know, I mean, I've never-never-I mean-not with another-I-"  
Ed's blushing and somehow that makes David relax. He presses a kiss to Ed's hair and then says "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to. We can just-sleep if that's all you want."  
Ed swallows and blushes and then meets his eyes and says "That isn't all I want."  
David's heartbeat is so loud, he's surprised Ed can't hear it as he says "It's not all I want, either."  
Their smiles are small and shy and something about it makes David start to feel that maybe, they can relax.  
They're able to get through dinner pretty easily, with David pointing out that he does the cooking more than Sam does at the moment-"That must be a first, David Cameron taking on the woman's role" "On a completely unrelated note, I hope you've learnt the price of a weekly shop" -and this time when they do the washing up, and David ends up with soap suds in his hair, Ed brushes them out carefully before dropping one onto the end of David's nose which leaves David scrabbling for something to say, while Ed smiles at him in that irritating, aggravating endearing way he has.  
They watch some old re-runs of Frasier and The Office on the TV which they both laugh a little too loudly at, each of them glancing at the other and then glancing away when their eyes meet. David keeps his arm around Ed's shoulders and tries to calm himself down by telling himself it's going to be fine, there's other things they can do if _that's_ too difficult, and that getting worried isn't going to help anything-and then Ed's thumb grazes his wrist, brushes the spot that makes him gasp, and all David can think of, embarrassingly, is how long it's acceptable to wait before suggesting they go to bed.  
It's about ten when he notices Ed's eyes shifting to him more and more often and eventually, he turns to him and says "Do you feel like going to bed?"  
Ed swallows hard and nods and David swallows, wondering if he's ever been this nervous before-because this isn't just with a man, this is with-with _Miliband_ , it's bloody _Miliband_ , it's _Ed_ and it-and it-it's what he wants.  
He can't quite say the words, even now, so he just presses their mouths together and stands up, with his hand out.  
They both take longer getting ready for bed than they usually would-David lets Miliband go first, partly out of natural politeness and partly because that gives him a little longer to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror and tell himself it's going to be fine.  
When he steps out of the bathroom, he stares at Miliband, Miliband whose hair's just a _little_ rumpled, his cuffs unbuttoned and David swallows hard. "God, Miliband-" The words break from his mouth without thinking and when Miliband blinks at him uncertainly, David steps closer to him until their foreheads are touching and he's close enough to feel Miliband's chest rising and falling against his own. He looks up to Miliband's dark eyes and he whispers the words, an inch from Miliband's mouth. "I want you."  
Mliband's sharp intake of breath is something David wants to hear over and over. He carefully, very gently, gets to work on Miliband's top button and he feels the other man tremble a little, as his finger brushes against his pulse.  
"Don't worry" he whispers as he unbuttons Ed's shirt. "It's OK-we don't have-we don't have to do anything-" His words trail off as Miliband's hands close around his wrists and he glances up as Miliband, his eyes seeming several shades darker than usual and fixed on David, slowly shrugs himself out of his shirt, before unstrapping his watch and somehow, that precise little movement is what makes David groan in the back of his throat, his eyes roaming all over Miliband's skin. He wants his hands on that skin. He wants to feel Miliband under his hands.  
Miliband reaches silently for David's tie, and David lets him. Miliband's fingers brush his chest as he works on each button and when-a little clumsily-Ed slides the shirt from David's shoulders, and he watches Miliband's eyes widen as he stares at him, he feels his heart pounding so fast it almost makes him feel sick.  
Miliband reaches to touch him first, and _that-that_ is the thing that makes that small moan break from David's throat as Miliband's fingers skate over his skin, both of them breathing harder now and when David chances a look at Miliband's eyes, he sees them huge and dark, pupils blown wide, and then both of his hands are exploring David's chest and caressing the softness of his stomach. (Caressing. Christ, this is a new meaning for caressing. Miliband's rewriting David's bloody dictionary.)  
He can hear himself moaning, and God, he needs, he needs-he opens his eyes and takes in Miliband, all of him, and he wants to hear him make these sounds. His hands reach up before he can think twice and then Miliband catches his wrist.  
"Is this all right?" he says, breaking out of the feeling of Miliband's fingers, which currently seem to be taking forever tracing one of his ribs.  
Miliband stares at him. "I was juth-" He swallows. "It might be easier in a bed-"  
David feels the grin break over his own face and he wraps his arms around Miliband then, presses a kiss into his hair. "Forward of you, Miliband" he whispers and Miliband stiffens. "Oh-I didn't mean-"  
David presses another kiss to his jaw. "I'm joking" and he kisses Miliband then, just kisses him and murmurs "We could do with a bed."  
They end up under the duvet together, and David's fingers (and hands and mouth) are addicted to Miliband's shoulders. He can't stop tracing them, murmuring his lips over them and every time Miliband shudders, tiny wordless moans crumbling against his skin, the same way he does when Miliband starts pressing kisses against his chest, moving further down until David's fingers are knotting in Miliband's hair and Miliband's mouth is brushing his waistband.  
They deal with each other's trousers and David murmurs into Ed's mouth, hands braided into his hair "Oh-oh Christ, I've still got my socks on" and Ed bursts out laughing, even as David tries to glare at him and fails. "So have you" David murmurs into Ed's shoulder and suddenly they're both shaking with laughter, David propped over him with a grin, apparently dealing with the sock situation without the use of hands. "Can't call me a hypocrite now, Miliband" David murmurs into his collarbone and Ed can feel the grin at his own mouth, even as he mutters "Shut up, Cameron."  
A few moments later, David's hands are sliding lower and he's got his eyes fixed on Ed's, that grin at his mouth that seems to appear just when he's being utterly _aggravating_ , so that all Ed can think of when he's supposed to be yelling at Cameron, is how soon it will be before he can get their mouths against each other. (He's convinced Cameron does it on purpose.)  
But now Cameron whispers, against his bare skin, "It'll be OK" and Ed can feel the words climbing up his throat as David's fingers slowly move lower, as he babbles nervously about how he imagines this must be rather surprising for David Cameron, to have continually accused other parties of crawling into bed with-with other parties-and-David-and to- _ohhhh_ , oh, oh _God, C-Cameron-_  
David stops, his fingers on his own waistband. "We don't have to" he whispers against Ed's thigh and Ed looks at him and swallows. "Come here" he says, after a moment, drunk on his own daring, and he leans down to plant another kiss to Cameron's mouth.  
It's awkward-of course it's awkward. They're both nervous and uncertain and their hands are still running over each other, exploring, staring at each other. David traces Ed's hips with his fingers, and it's then that Ed can't help himself, murmuring into David's ribs something that sounds suspiciously like "Gorgeous" before David's hand traces lower again, fingers dancing down Ed's knees after a few moments and probing a few ticklish spots, before he simply props himself up on one elbow and stares at Ed, his eyes moving slowly up and down his body. Ed can feel the blood creeping up to his cheeks, his own eyes wandering down, taking in the little freckle on Cameron's shoulder, the feeling of Cameron's skin, hot under his hands. He stares at him, taking in all of him- cocky, confident, sharp, downright infuriating, witty, confusingly _sweet_....God, _Cameron...._  
Before they go _there_ -the _there_ both of them desperately want to go-Cameron's head's propped against Ed's, both of them gulping for air, Cameron whispering something that sounds like _beautiful_ into Ed's hair, and this time it's him who whispers to Cameron "Sure?"  
Cameron looks at him and nods. "You?"  
Ed nods and waits, them taking each other in, Cameron almost on top of him-and then Cameron whispers "Give me your hand."  
Ed does and he holds on tight.  
It's quicker than either of them wanted it to be-David holds still for such a long moment that Ed feels as though he's ready before they've even done anything and when he winces, David whispers "OK?" and Ed swallows and nods. "Please, David" he whispers and kisses his neck, and then David nods, giving Ed's hand a quick squeeze, their fingers braided around each other.  
Once they're moving together, Ed can't think anymore, his words muffled in David's shoulders, David's gasps and the sound of their skin rubbing together, high-pitched sounds coming out of his throat each time they move just right, and it's making it harder and harder to hold on-and it's over for both of them much too quickly, with Ed murmuring frantically "Davey, David, I'm, I'm" before it crashes into him and the hoarse cry that comes from his throat is buried in Cameron's shoulder, his arms tightening so hard it aches, and he feels David's ragged breathing change, feels him tense before he follows, his shout buried in Ed's neck as they collapse into each other, their skin damp and warm and both of their hearts pounding, and Ed can't even open his eyes, and it was quick and awkward and fumbled and it was so good that he's already thinking about doing it again.  
"Are you OK?" they both burst out at almost exactly the same moment and then their mouths crash together for a moment before David pulls back and says "No, really?"  
Ed sighs. "Copying my lines again?" he says, but the words are shaky and he nods at David, before he pulls him down so that he can kiss Cameron's hair, still feeling the aftershocks quivering through him.  
*  
They say it, after, when they've drifted into sleep, still holding onto each other, the sheets twisted around them and it's then that David swallows and knows what he's about to say.  
"Ed?" he says and when Miliband turns to look at him, blinking heavy eyes at him, David stares for a moment, takes in the softness of his mouth, the eyelashes brushing his cheeks, the whole-the..geeky, nerdy, hilarious, funny, stubborn, clever-just all of him-  
The words fall out of his mouth, a little mumbled and the letters meshing together but they're there and they're real, after all the months of not quite being. "I love you."  
Ed's eyes open wide and then stare, just stare, as if David's said something completely incomprehensible and David waits, suddenly shaking, teeth digging into his lip-  
Ed moves closer then, lets his arms wrap clumsily around David's shoulders and the words burst out, a little clumsily. "I love you, too."  
David feels a giddy wave of something break over him-something light, sending his head spinning, his arms tightening until Miliband tilts his head back and says "It might be customary to let your guests speak first for once, by the way, Cameron."  
David stares at him and then arches an eyebrow. "Maybe you're not just a guest" he says and takes the opportunity, while Ed tries to splutter a garbled reply, to drop a quick kiss onto each of his eyelids.  
"Ed Miliband speechless. Maybe that's a good thing."  
"Shut up, Cameron."  
"Shut up, Miliband."  
Miliband's mouth scrabbles at his own until their lips meet clumsily, hot and open and warm and Ed rests his head over David's heartbeat, where he then says simply "David."  
David kisses his hair, his eyes falling closed. "Ed."  
They huddle together under the bedcovers and they don't think about what will happen next, about the next time they'll do this and the next, and the next. They don't talk about what will happen, who will win the Leadership, what they'll do when they have to bring it all out into the open with everyone else. They don't think about their careers and everything that might be said because there's each other and that's what they're holding tight to now. There's the bedclothes and the warmth of their skin and the sound of their breathing and Ed's mouth, always poised around another line and David's words always ready to hurl back at him, and the way neither of them is letting go of the other and the way neither of them wants to.  
They might not be all the way there yet. But they're figuring it out.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, complete and total fiction. I've written a multi-thousand word fanfic about Dcam and Emili discovering their love for each other. What parents wouldn't be proud?  
> Leave a review if you like it. :)


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